


Warily Go, Warily Come

by ideserveyou



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rescue, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/ideserveyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened when Kai and Llud were rescued from Gavron's tent... and afterwards</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wary and Weary... and Wet

I cannot get inside that tent fast enough.  
Kai is in there.  
My Kai is in there, and they have hurt him: I can see it in their faces. If he is injured – if he has suffered harm because of Gavron’s treachery – then nothing will prevent me from throttling that devious dog with his own sword-belt.

I will never forgive myself, either.

I thrust aside the hangings over the door, and suddenly I am grinning, weak with relief. Kai is there, and he is alive and in one piece.  
But he is not smiling back; he is bound fast to the tent pole. He has been stripped to the waist, and roughly handled. There are scratches on his shoulder, deep and ragged and oozing blood; bruises are showing dark along his side, and there is a shadow of pain in his eyes... I stand before him, but hesitate to touch him.

‘I’m all right,’ he says. ‘Just get me out of here.’  
I reach around him to cut his bonds, and our mouths meet in a kiss, brief and hard, reaffirming our survival.  
He smells of sweat, and summer dust.  
I do not know what to say to him.  
He rubs his chafed wrists, and sees me looking at his injuries. ‘I’m all right,’ he says again. ‘Just cuts and bruises. But they hurt Llud.’  
‘What have they done to him?’ I feel a twinge of guilt, that my father was forgotten in my anxiety over my brother.  
‘Nothing serious,’ Llud’s dry voice says from the next tent. ‘But if you two have finished greeting each other, I’d appreciate it if you’d cut me loose. There’s still a fight going on out there, if my old ears don’t deceive me.’  
I raise an eyebrow at Kai, and the corner of his mouth twitches in an almost-smile.

Together we hasten to free Llud and help him to his feet; I retrieve his sword from the corner, and give him back his tunic. The grubby bandage around his left hand has come loose, and I re-tie it, wincing at the sight of the burned flesh beneath it.  
‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ he says, and he is looking at Kai. ‘Yes, it did hurt. But they would have suspected, if I’d given in too easily.’ He smiles at me then. ‘Well done for getting the message. I knew you’d come.’

Kai stands silent, restlessly folding and re-folding his shirt. When he turns round, I see why he has not attempted to put it on: his back is covered with angry bruises. A surge of fury runs through me. Gavron will pay for this.  
Then I notice a body lying at the back of the tent. ‘What happened?’  
‘Later,’ Kai says, his face grim.  
Llud nods. ‘We have the live ones to deal with first.’

So out we go, and Gavron learns the truth – that Llud cannot write, and so his letter home forewarned me of the treachery that awaited here.

Then there is the clash of weapons, and despite my cry of ‘Hold!’ Llud sets off to chase down the giant masked warrior, and lay his evil dream to rest.

Kai watches the fight as though paralysed; when it is over, I rouse him with a hand on his shoulder, and send him to help our father out of the muddy river.

Gavron curses and spits as he sees his champion cut down, but the fight has gone out of him, and he readily reveals where his twin has been concealed. My own anger has cooled also. I will not soil my hands with this man’s blood; but I will place Gavron at his brother’s mercy. I allow myself the satisfaction of telling Gavron exactly what I think of him – and what will happen to him should he ever trouble us again – before despatching him and his few remaining men with a large armed escort, to release Brandreth from his captivity.

If Brandreth chooses to take revenge, I will not blame him.

Llud and Kai both insist that they are fit to ride home, and so we set out as soon as we can, leaving the others to bury the bodies and strip the camp of anything that may be of use.

We arrive in the village at dusk: Kai swaying in his saddle, and Llud looking grim. He slides clumsily from his horse, and winces with the pain in his burned hand.  
‘We’d better get him up to Lenni’s,’ Kai says.  
Llud is oddly subdued as we lead him across the yard. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mutters. ‘Sorry to give you all this trouble. Forgive an old man’s foolishness…’  
My heart turns over, and Kai too looks stricken. Llud never calls himself old, never.  
‘No matter,’ I say, keeping my voice light. ‘All’s well now. You just need to get that hand seen to, and then rest.’

Lenni comes to meet us, concern on her pretty face. She signs to Llud to sit on the bed, and soon she is unwrapping the bandage from his scorched flesh.  
Kai sucks in a breath, and turns away.  
Lenni looks up at us, and signs, _Are you hurt?_  
‘No,’ I say.  
 _And Kai?_  
‘I’m all right,’ Kai growls. ‘Nothing a bath and a sleep won’t cure.’  
I hope he is right.  
Lenni frowns at me. _Well, what are you waiting for? Go and sort your brother out. I’ll take care of your father. All the better for not having you two under my feet._  
She hands me a pot of salve and ushers us both briskly out of the door.

Kai sinks down on his bed in the longhouse, spent and sorrowful.  
‘Arthur…’  
I lean over and kiss his cheek. ‘It’s all right, Kai. You’re home now. I’m going to get you clean, and see to your hurts. Then if you’re still awake, we’ll find some food...’  
Talking what I hope is comforting nonsense all the while, I help him strip; lay him down on the sheepskin cover; fetch clean water and a cloth.

The insides of his thighs are bruised.  
‘Who did this to you?’ I ask, tracing the outline of the marks with my fingertips.  
He cannot look at me.  
‘Kai?’  
‘The guard,’ he says at last. ‘I… tripped him and throttled him. Cut my way out with his sword, only it was all for nothing.’  
He chokes back a harsh sob. ‘I ran straight into a pack of them, in the woods, and they just took me back and had that big bastard tie me up again. And he didn’t trouble to be gentle. If you hadn’t shown up when you did…’  
He rolls over and lies face down, his shoulders heaving. I look at the bruises on his back, where he was slammed against the tent pole, and the marks of big rough fingers on his thin ribcage, and feel a savage satisfaction in the knowledge that the man who did this damage is dead and buried – cannot hurt my Kai ever again.

I wring the cloth out once more, and start to wipe the dust and the sweat off him, trying to put into my touch all the things I find it so hard to convey to him in words.  
But he is not comforted.  
‘You have killed in battle, many times, and not given it a second thought,’ I say. ‘What makes the guard’s death so different?’  
‘I tricked him.’  
‘It was war, Kai.’  
‘He was trying to do me a kindness.’ He heaves a huge sigh. ‘I pretended to be thirsty. And he brought me water. And I killed him…’  
‘That man’s death was not your fault,’ I say. ‘You had to try to escape. He was doing his job; but so were you. Both of you were there because of Gavron’s treachery – and Llud’s foreboding – and my carelessness. No blame attaches to you.’  
He sniffs, and then flinches as I hit a tender spot. I lift the cloth away; bend over and press my lips to the place in apology.  
His skin smells so good, even when he’s filthy. I want to lie down beside him and crush him to me and never let him go…

‘It was war,’ I say, sitting up again. ‘A war you did not want to fight, and nor did I. But we had no choice. You did your best in a hard place, and I for one will not reproach you. I was just so glad…’  
Damn it, why is it so hard to say?

Now he is looking at me, and struggling to sit up.

And I find that I do not need to say it, after all; not with words.

We break apart, and still neither of us says anything, but the tension in Kai’s body is gone. I finish washing him, and salve his hurts; help him into clean clothes. When Llud comes back, restored to himself again and with his hand expertly tended by Lenni, we are sitting by the hearth with a mug of mead apiece, the picture of innocence.

Kai is yawning by the time we have finished our evening meal, and Llud sends him firmly to bed.  
‘And you, Arthur,’ he says, just as though we were still small boys. ‘I’m just going to refill the water bucket, then I’ll be ready to turn in too. It’s been quite a day.’

I go through to the sleeping place and bend over Kai’s bed, on the pretext of tucking the fleece cover more firmly round him.  
He reaches up and pulls my head down to him for a scorching kiss, his tongue swirling around the inside of my lips, making my knees weak with longing; but already I can hear Llud’s heavy tread coming back across the yard.  
Kai grins as I scramble hastily onto my own bed; then lies back, eyes closed, to all appearances fast asleep already.  
It is a good thing these sheepskins are so thick. Or they would resemble Gavron’s tent, hoisted high on the rigid pole of my cock…

…

‘No! No! Get away from me!’  
Kai’s cry of distress jolts me abruptly awake, and I hasten to rouse Llud.  
It takes me a little while to realise that Kai is amusing himself at our father’s expense; I have to duck down behind Llud’s shoulder to conceal my mirth.  
Finally we collapse in giggles, our arms around each other, and Llud takes swift and accurate revenge with the newly filled water bucket.  
When he has done laughing, he looks very seriously at Kai.  
‘Your bed’s wet, Kai. I’m sorry about that. You’ll just have to share Arthur’s.’  
Kai is speechless; Llud’s face is impassive as he picks up the sodden blankets. ‘I’ll just go and hang these by the fire. They’ll be dry by morning. And I suppose I’d better take this and refill it again, too…’  
He draws the curtain across the sleeping place behind him.

We strip and dry ourselves as best we can; then we turn and look at each other.

As one we reach out, and embrace, and time slows down; it seems we have been together like this for ever, and yet we have just begun.

There is a sudden clatter outside in the hall, and Llud loudly curses whoever left that damned stool right in the way.

We spring apart, breathing hard and fast.

‘I’d… I’d better put some dry clothes on,’ Kai mutters, turning away towards the linen chest.  
I catch his wrist and pull him back to me. ‘Don’t bother. I’m not going to. Just come to bed.’  
‘But what if something happens? What if we’re attacked in the night?’  
‘I don’t think we will be,’ I say, trying hard not to laugh.  
‘But if we are…’  
‘If we are, beloved, then we’ll fight them naked, and make sure they won’t be going home to tell anyone about it.’ I am smiling again; I cannot help it. ‘And it’s not as though Llud will be surprised. Come on.’ I turn back the covers and get in, and draw him down on top of me, then pull the heavy fleece over both of us.

His wet hair is cold as it trails across my face and neck. I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight; but he draws a sharp breath, and flinches, and I remember that he is hurt.  
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, letting go. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’  
‘Don’t think,’ he says, clutching at me, pressing his damp clean body against my side. ‘I don’t care. Just hold me…’  
I pull him close, trying to be careful, but the feel of his skin against mine is making me lose all caution.  
‘Kai,’ I murmur, rubbing my face against him. ‘My Kai…’  
‘I thought Gavron would kill you,’ he says, arching himself against me, desperate to get closer still. ‘And then slay us, too, once we were no more use as bait. And I’d spent my last night in the village – with someone else…’

I had forgotten that. He had come home in such need, and there had been no prospect of release with me, since Llud was confined to his bed in the longhouse. So my brother went to find himself a willing girl, and didn’t come back until morning, when Llud was already set for departure and I was deep in my drugged sleep.

Kai mutters into my shoulder: ‘I’m sorry…’  
‘Hush,’ I say. ‘No harm came of it. We’re here, now, and we’re together.’ I run my hand down his flank, feeling him quiver. ‘And if we’re quick…’  
My fingers curl around his hardness, and he gasps – ‘Yes’ – and reaches for me, and we stop talking because we have neither breath nor mouths to spare for more words.  
It takes only moments; but such moments as these are to be treasured for ever. A few quick, sure strokes, and a deep kiss, locking tongues, lost in this private space that contains just the two of us and yet encompasses the whole world.

Then we are coming, together, muffling the sounds of our joy in the bedclothes, groping on the floor for a spare cloak to dry off the worst of it, and laughing quietly at the wondrous absurdity of it all.  
He lies beside me, his hand in mine under the covers. I love him so much when we are like this: eased, fulfilled, utterly content. Then I hear Llud outside, chatting to the doorwarden, and lean over for one more kiss.

Kai’s eyes open, his heart and soul bared to my gaze. And I know, then, that I have something else to give him tonight: something that he craves, but will never ask for.  
It comes easily, now that the time is right, now that I know in my heart, beyond doubt, that it is true.

‘I love you,’ I say, as the longhouse door creaks open.

The most beautiful smile in the world lights up the room… and then the curtain twitches, and I lay my head hastily back on the pillow and try to breathe evenly, as though in sleep. Beside me I can hear Kai trying to do the same. His fingers twine around mine; he gives a deep, happy sigh, and a few moments later he really is asleep.

I lie there and listen to the familiar noises of Llud going to bed. Did I imagine that he paused for a moment beside us, and gave a small, amused chuckle to himself?

Apparently not. I wake at first light, Kai’s head pillowed on my shoulder, and see that Llud is already up and gone, cloak, boots and all…


	2. Rested and Recovered… and Rampant

‘More.’  
Arthur lifts his head from out of my groin, and grins at me. ‘More, what?’  
‘More of whatever you were doing… please.’  
He laughs. ‘Very well.’  
He is kneeling alongside me, and as he bends over and attends to his task once more, my vision is filled by his lean back; the ridged arc of his spine; the glorious curves of his naked arse, milk-pale and taut and still marked with wrinkles and creases imprinted into his skin by the rumpled fleece on which he has slept.

The fleece that lines Arthur’s bed – the bed we share; the fleece that warmed us, and teased us, and stuck to us in places where our issue of last night was left carelessly un-dried.

I reach out a hand and trace the marks back and forth, and the slide of my fingertips over his skin keeps time with the slide of his tongue back and forth over my balls, until I am no longer sure which is which.

It never ceases to fill me with wonder. We are two, and so different; and yet here, like this, we are one and the same.

Always and forever.

He looks up again, as though he has heard my thought.

‘More?’ Oh, how I wish he would smile like that all the time. I would make it so for him, if I could. I do my best…

‘Mmmm.’ I thrust upwards. ‘As much as you care to give me. As much as you can take.’

‘That’s… quite a lot,’ he says, and he is looking at my prick now, and I am not vain, but neither am I small.

I fling back my head and laugh aloud, as much for joy as at his double meaning; he runs a finger along my length, and then his laughter stops, but only because he has taken me into his mouth.

‘You too,’ I say, and he releases me, unhurried, his slick mouth gliding up my shaft, his tongue adding little touches here and there, making me shudder.

The morning air feels cold on my wet skin. But no chill can quench the fire that fuels my hardness; and I know he will not leave me like this for long.

He kneels astride my neck, and leans forward onto his elbows. ‘Now, where was I?’

‘About here, I think,’ I say, and I reach up to where his glorious prick hangs ripe and heavy, and bring it to my mouth and settle it comfortably on my tongue.

I love this. All of it. His graceful cleft, outlined above me; the darkened skin at his entrance; the soft, cool weight of his balls; all within reach of my eager hands. And the rich, musky scent of his sweat there, and the heady taste of him, the very essence of Arthur, known to no-one else.

Time is kind to us, and goes slowly: the moments flow and cling, like honey. His tongue is flexing against the tip of my prick, swirling around the rim: teasing me, just missing the tenderest place every time, as though by accident. I take my revenge, slipping a wetted finger slowly, slowly, up behind his balls, into his sweat-slicked crack, halting just where the skin starts to pucker.

He gives a low groan, and wraps his hand around the base of my shaft, squeezing and milking. I have to clench, to hold myself back. I hear him chuckle, and I lick across the head of his cock, delicately outlining the rim and the slit, tasting the nectar that is flowing from him.

We are daring each other, duelling with our desire. Who can be taken closest to the edge, and whose resolve will give way first?

I am teetering on the brink, and, and I know that if his tongue once touches me – there – I am lost…

His taste is changing, growing more intense and earthy, a prelude of the rich gush of seed that is soon to come.

He lifts his head, running his lips all the way up me, their firm smooth grip scarcely bearable. When he gets to the top I won’t be able to hold back. Just the thought of it is almost enough – and now –

He swirls his tongue all the way round, and this time he finds the tender place, and as I moan and writhe and start to spend myself, I slip my finger into his tight opening, and he too lets go, thrusting into my mouth, filling my whole being with… himself.

It no longer matters who was first. We have both won.

He slides me out, and climbs off me, then sprawls at his ease beside me, tracing a finger over the flush on my chest.

‘Thank you,’ he says, very earnestly.

‘You’re welcome,’ I reply, and pull him to me for a kiss.

And now he is grinning at me, and I know the same idiotic smile is on my own face.

‘What now?’ I ask.

‘Well…’ He glances ruefully at his prick, still glistening purple at the head, but small and soft and curled in repose on its bed of damp black hairs. ‘This is going to take a little while to recover. As, I suspect, is yours.’

I am as limp and spent as an empty waterskin. He cups me with gentle affection.

‘So while we’re waiting… what about some breakfast?’


	3. Bright and Beloved… and Breathing

I reach for my tunic, but Kai shakes his head. ‘Don’t.’  
‘But…’  
‘I want to look at you.’  
‘Haven’t you seen enough for one morning?’  
His eyes are hungry. ‘No. I can never get enough. And after yesterday…’  
I understand. It rattled me, too.   
‘Very well,’ I say. ‘Half naked breakfast it is, then. And if anyone comes in and asks…’  
He grins. ‘Then we tell them our shirts are still drying by the fire. Which is true, after all.’

And so it is. The benches have been pulled close to the hearth, and two bone-dry shirts and some equally bone-dry blankets are neatly arranged along them.

We are truly blessed to have a father who takes such very good care of us.

Had anyone asked me, before I sat down at the table facing Kai, I would have said that I was ravenous; but I find that my bread has little taste – in fact I might be breaking my fast with horsefeed for all I know or care. The sight of that lean beautiful body, and that dark gaze fixed on me… these chase away all other thoughts. And when he stretches out a foot under the table, and runs it up my calf, and then up my thigh to rest in my groin – then my hand trembles and I almost spill my mead.

He grins wickedly and drains his own cup, and then withdraws his foot, and walks around the table to sit down next to me, his head resting on my shoulder.

I run my hand over his ribs; trace the graceful line of his collarbone from shoulder to throat and back again; and I am deeply, gratefully content.

My Kai is alive and warm and breathing; and he is here with me. That is all I need.

We are silent for a while; until finally he heaves a sigh, and gets up.  
‘Come on,’ he says, and goes to the hearth to pick up my shirt and fling it across to me. ‘We can’t stay here all day. More’s the pity. The others will be back soon, and we can’t expect Llud to make excuses for us for ever…’

‘We can start by putting these back where they belong,’ I say, and I go to him and pick up the fleeces, and then I put them down again because Kai is lacing up the front of his shirt and I just have to run my fingers along his collarbone one more time.

We remake the bed with much speculation as to how we might put those dry blankets to good use later. But my demonstration of exactly what I had in mind is cut short by the sound of the longhouse door creaking open, and Llud’s cheery greeting.

‘Ah, so you’re awake,’ he says, peering around the bedroom door. ‘I’ve… been to Lenni’s for more treatment. My hand was sore and it woke me early. But I thought I’d let you sleep on. You must have been tired after yesterday.’

‘Yes, we were,’ Kai says, kicking me surreptitiously on the ankle as my lips start to twitch. ‘We’ve… had breakfast,’ he adds, and turns hurriedly away to tuck in a stray corner of fleece.

‘Those blankets were dry, were they?’ our father asks, his face open and innocent as the day.

‘Yes,’ Kai says. ‘Thank you.’

Then he is seized with an inexplicable fit of coughing, but thankfully at that moment the doorwarden cries the news that the war party is returned from Gavron’s camp, and we are summoned outside to hear what they have to tell.

It is not a long story. Brandreth was found safe and well in his cave, and it was an easy matter to free him. Reluctant to do violence against his brother, and still hoping for reconciliation, he has taken Gavron home with him as a captive, to teach him the error of his ways.   
‘And he made him write a letter of apology before they left,’ our messenger says.

Well, I have read longer and more sincere apologies, and ones with fewer blots, too; but I suppose it is a start. At least Gavron is no longer a direct threat; and Brandreth is likely to prove a stout ally.

Then a cart rolls in through the gate, heaped with goods, and we all set to and help with the unlading. There was much useful plunder from the camp, including two barrels of mead and some well-made weaponry: both welcome additions to our stores.

Llud sets down the last bundle, his face troubled.

Kai and I exchange glances. We know that look.

Without drawing the attention of the others, we lead him a little way to one side.   
‘What is it?’ I ask, keeping my voice low.  
‘Arthur, I’ve – been thinking,’ Llud says.  
‘I can see that,’ I reply.   
‘And that your thoughts trouble you,’ Kai puts in.  
Our father nods.   
‘I owe you both an apology,’ he says. ‘I was too proud to confide my fears to you. And it nearly led to disaster.’

I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘No harm came of it,’ I say. ‘In fact, if anything, you did more good. Now we have peace with both Brandreth and his brother. And in writing, too.’

He looks up; his brow is still furrowed. ‘Promise me something, both of you.’   
‘Of course,’ Kai says, putting a hand on his other shoulder.  
‘If either of you should ever have a warning like that, promise me that you won’t make my mistake, and keep it secret – but share it, and let your actions be decided by rational discussion, and not by fear and shame.’  
Arthur nods. ‘Agreed. Between the three of us, there should be no need for such concealment.’  
We shake hands on it, and Llud’s face clears.

The corner of his mouth twitches, in a way that I know well.

‘Although…’   
And now Kai is smiling too.  
‘… there is perhaps no need for all of us to tell one another absolutely everything…’  
I love our father.   
‘… such as what goes on under those sheepskins…’  
He claps us both on the shoulder, and together we return to assist with the stowage of Gavron’s confiscated goods in the store huts.

With so many hands to help, it does not take long to clear the cart and find store space – or new homes about the village – for the weapons and the dried meat, the spare cloaks, the sheepskins and deerhides. A half-full barrel of mead is carried up to the longhouse, and I promise a feast: not tonight, but tomorrow, to give time for its preparation. Even the tent poles have been salvaged, and are being chopped up for firewood.

‘What do you want doing with these?’ Llud asks, and I turn to see him standing outside the doorway of the store, with his arms full of bundled cloths and hangings, and Kai and two other men similarly laden.

‘Fold them and stow them for now,’ I say. ‘I’m sure there are households here who will be able to make use of them, come the winter. No sense in letting them go to waste.’

I go out into the yard and take hold of a corner; others come to assist, and between us we stretch out the first piece of fabric, and begin to fold it neatly.

‘Give it a good shake,’ one of the women says. ‘Get the dust off it.’

We move our arms vigorously, and a cloud of dirt and fragments of straw and who-knows-what blows away across the yard. I catch a faint whiff of mustiness, and a smell I can’t quite place… it is faintly disturbing…

Then the wind catches the cloth, and it billows up and out of Llud’s grasp, since he has only the one hand to hold it, and that is still bandaged; the flapping corner wraps itself around Kai, all but covering him.

We all laugh heartily, and begin our task anew; but when Kai emerges from the cloth’s clinging embrace, he is pale and silent, and when that piece is folded and stowed, he walks away and lets someone else take his place.

I can see him as we start on the next piece: right out at the end of the jetty, staring at the lake.

Llud raises an eyebrow. ‘Better go and find out what that was all about,’ he mutters to me, as we meet in the middle of the yard to bring our respective corners together. Then he raises his voice. ‘I’ll finish off here. Not much more to do. You and Kai had better go and check the western signal post. Make sure nothing’s befallen the warning beacon in our absence.’

The western signal post is a good two hours’ ride, along the river. And I know for a fact that Llud checked it himself only the day before he came down with that fever...

‘Very well,’ I say, straight-faced, and I hand over the corner of the cloth.

Kai tenses at the sound of footfalls on the planking of the landing stage.  
‘Kai?’ I call softly: letting him know it is only I.  
His shoulders rise and fall as he heaves a sigh. ‘I’m all right.’  
I stand beside him; put an arm about his shoulders. ‘What was that all about?’  
‘Nothing,’ he says stubbornly.   
‘Tell me.’   
But he shakes his head. ‘Just foolishness, that’s all. Leave it.’  
‘No, Kai.’   
‘Arthur –’  
‘Hear me out. No, I will not leave it. And no, it is not foolishness.’

He looks at me then, his dark eyes wide.

‘And no, I do not despise you for it.’ I clasp him fiercely, just for a moment; then I take his arm and turn him round. ‘Come on. You and I are going riding. We’re going to check the far western signal post. And while we’re about it, you’re going to tell me what’s wrong. That’s an order.’

He nods, and follows me to the stables; saddles his horse, and mine, while I go to the longhouse to fetch a few essential provisions for the journey.

An hour or so later, with the sun past its height, I rein to a halt on the far side of the West Hill, where the meadow runs down to the river crossing.   
‘This will do us nicely,’ I say, swinging my leg over my horse’s neck and landing neatly beside him.

‘It’s still an hour or more to the signal post,’ Kai says, frowning. ‘We should go on, if we want to have time to see to the beacon and still be back before dark.’  
‘But we don’t want,’ I say, grinning. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the beacon. It’s you I’m worried about.’

He dismounts slowly, shaking his head. ‘I tell you, there’s nothing wrong with me either. It was just…’  
A slow flush comes to his face. He takes his time unsaddling and hobbling his black horse; and I do not press him, but gather sticks for a fire, spread out a blanket, unpack some morsels of food.  
Finally, after stacking and re-stacking the saddles three times, he can’t find anything more to do, and comes to sit beside me. I hand him a mug of mead.

He takes a deep swallow, and looks up at me.

‘Now tell me,’ I say. ‘What happened, out there in the yard?’  
He sighs. ‘It sounds so ridiculous. The smell of the cloth… nothing more than that.’  
‘It was part of the tent they held you in,’ I say. ‘I smelt it, too, but it took me a while to recognise it. And it reminded you...’  
‘It took me right back to yesterday morning, to that big bastard coming for Llud.’ His voice wavers; he shakes his head, as though impatient with himself. ‘Idiotic.’  
‘And perfectly understandable,’ I tell him, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Think no more of it, Kai. I don’t think any the worse of you. And if it happens again, tell me, and I will do my best to give you a breathing space.’  
‘Like this,’ he says, gesturing at the sunlit hillside.  
I nod. ‘Like this.’

He looks around us at the meadow, the trees, the river; the high blue vault of the sky.

We are silent for a while. Then – ‘All this… just for breathing?’ he asks, and now the tension has gone from his shoulders, and there is a glimmer of mischief in his voice. ‘Or can one do other things here too?’  
‘What other things, Kai?’ I ask, trying and utterly failing to look innocent.  
‘Well…’ He reaches for me, slides a hand into my hair, and takes my mouth with his.

We have not eaten yet, nor have we bathed, but the sun is warm and there will be plenty of time to such matters later. Meanwhile we have something very important to do, and we set about our task very thoroughly and without undue delay. Llud would expect no less of us.

Kai laughs uproariously when I pull the oil flask from my saddlebag. ‘You planned this all along,’ he accuses. ‘You and Llud between you. You never expected us to get to the beacon fire at all.’ He takes the flask from me; pours oil into his palm; smooths it over his long fingers. ‘I never stood a chance, did I? Outnumbered and outflanked. Ah, well, I won’t begrudge you the victory.’ He looks at me sidelong. ‘So long as you don’t begrudge me my revenge…’

I am still on my knees; with one swift movement he pulls me over, onto my side, then rolls me on my back on the blanket and kneels beside me. His oiled fingers trace a path down my chest and onto my belly, lingering exquisitely around my navel, sliding in and out, making me groan with longing.

Slowly he works his way down, pouring more oil, kneading it into my skin; the slight drag of his fingers setting me on fire, the occasional sharper spark of pain, as a hair is caught, just adding fuel to the flames.

I am blazing brighter than any beacon, burning only for my Kai; only he will ever see me like this. I am calling him to me, calling him to action, telling him I need him…

And he has seen my signal, and is coming to my rescue.

He lifts my thigh, and strokes around my balls, and with a soft cry of surrender I spread myself so as to let him in. He bends down, and kisses me there, and warms more oil in his palm before trickling it into my cleft and working it into my softening entrance; I arch and writhe and plead, and soon I am open to him.

For all his talk of revenge, he is kind to me, and does not keep me waiting long. He has oiled his prick, and it slides inside me and fills me, smooth and hard and hot. My own length is standing like a tent pole; he wraps his fingers around it, and the fire between us burns up and consumes us both.

‘Arthur,’ he moans, ‘my Arthur…’ and he thrusts into me, striking sparks from that white-hot point of light deep in my soul’s core.

I hear myself cry out; I am lost, molten, scattered like ashes on the wind.

Then all is darkness for a little while.

When I come to myself, I am lying in blissful warmth with my head pillowed on Kai’s shoulder and his arm around me.

‘Welcome back,’ he says, as I turn my head to press my lips against the strong pulse beating in his neck. ‘Was my revenge… too exacting?’  
I laugh. ‘No,’ I tell him. ‘It was perfect. Remind me to conquer you more often.’  
‘How can I? You do it every day,’ he says.   
‘Don’t you get tired of it?’ I ask, mock-serious, running my fingers through a tangle in his hair and smoothing it out.  
He catches my hand in his; looks into my eyes; shakes his head.  
‘Never,’ he says earnestly. ‘Although from now on I might let you think so, sometimes. Just so that you might consider giving me a breathing space again…’


End file.
